Fic: Between two lives
Title: Between two lives
Fandom: Doctor Who
Author:
karlamartinova
Characters: Donna Noble, Brian Williams
Genre: Gen, Angst
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1 683
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to BBC, I own nothing.
AN: Set after The Angels Take Manhattan
AN1: This was inspired by me missing my grandfather.
Summary: We all search for something, some knows for what, some do not.
The dawn intrudes the room through the pulled curtains. She was too tired, too angry, too not-herself to close them and now the light makes her head ache before she has a chance to open her eyes and fight it. But it's always like that, and Donna doesn't even remember how it was before.
She doesn't remember much more.
A soft knock forces her to dive out of her covers. It's gramps, she's sure, and she doesn't want to start this day by yelling at the only person who doesn't treat her like she's insane. Not that Shaun did, Shaun had loved her, did anything in his power to make her happy, but she never was. Sometimes Donna felt that she was physically unable to be happy, like there was a power within her destroying anything remotely similar to happiness.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Wilf said cheerfully but quietly at the same time. “Ready for some tea? Tea makes everything better; you know your grandma always said so, and she was mostly right, that old wench.”
There's sadness in his voice, a sadness she shouldn't understand and yet she somehow does. He's been talking about her grandmother more often these past few days, remembering the ordinary things she used to do and say, and both Donna and Sylvia were scared of what it could mean. It was almost 25 years since she had died, and Wilf sniffed in the air smelling her perfume. “Roses”, he would say with a smile and Donna's heart would clench.
She pushes herself up. “Good morning, gramps. It sure smells wonderful, what did you bring me?” Donna asks with a smile, hoping to hide the head-splintering headache. She knows he worries, she would worry too in his place, but she still tries to stop him. Donna wants her grandfather to be happy, to talk nonsense about stars and other planets again. But he had stopped and when she asks him why, he always changes the topic.
Donna isn't stupid, she knows they know. Something happened to her, something bad, and no one wants her to know what it was. There are times when she doesn't want to know, where she would like to forget that there's that one dark cloud following her everywhere. Sometimes it has a face, a face of a man with spiky hair and infectious smile, and sometimes it's shadow following her, and some days even a giant wasp buzzing behind her. Those times she's scared, those times she doesn't want to remember at all.
“Bacon and eggs, the right English breakfast,” he's chatting happily while setting the plates on the table near her bed. He talks to her like she's a child sometimes, like she had just woken up to go to school. Donna lets him, plays along hoping that her eyes won't tell a different story. She doesn't want him to know the truth, doesn't want them to know that she’s slowly dying from inside, that she doesn't feel, doesn't want. She's just a ship aimlessly flowing, falling into emptiness.
-
Donna covers her grandfather with woolen blanket, kisses him softly on the forehead and wanders out of the house. He was supposed to look after her, check her every move, but these days he's more asleep than awake and Donna almost feels guilty for using it to her advantage. But she needs to breathe, to be her on her own in some other place that the house that feels more like a prison. Outside she's almost happy, but then the neighbors start to avoid her on the street, whispering about Sylvia's daughter who went nuts after a strange accident, and Donna wants to turn around and run back to the house, but she doesn't. She needs this as much as needs the air, why, she doesn't know, but it's not surprising. Many things aren't.
It pulls her towards a kiddy playground. It looks familiar and when she closes her eyes she sees two children, a boy and a girl, they yell “mommy” at her and then they disappear. Donna releases an involuntary scream, opens her eyes and looks around frantically, hoping that no one will call an ambulance again. She isn't alone in the park. There’s a man sitting on a bench murmuring something to himself, he looks like he didn't notice her at all. It intrigues her, that for a change, there’re no weird looks and whispers.
“Another happy nutter,” she thinks and slowly approaches him. He's older than her, closer to her mum's age, his face looks kind and completely unfamiliar. She's almost afraid to ask if she knows him, if he knows her, afraid that the answer wouldn't be the one she expected.
His head suddenly shots up and he sends her a strange look. “Have you seen a blue box?” he asks and there's something in his eyes that makes Donna's heart beat strongly against her rib cage. His eyes are sad, but it's not the normal kind of sad, it's the same kind she sees in her own when she faces herself in the mirror. It's sadness and confusion and a feeling you cannot quite grasp, like you don't know how you should feel.
“A blue police box, I have read that someone spotted it nearby, haven't you?” there's more urgency in his voice and Donna feels like should've an answer for him, but she hasn't, so she simply shakes her head.
“Oh,” he says as an answer, for a second looks completely grief-stricken and then pushes himself up. “Thank you, madam, wish you a pleasant day.” He turns away then but Donna doesn't want him to go, she wants to know what put that sadness into him, maybe it's the same thing, a disease, an accident, something they could have in common and she might finally know.
“Oi, wait,” she yells after him and he stops. But she doesn't have a question yet, she didn't find out yet how to put feelings into words. What's the question she's supposed to ask? What answer she expects? She needs his attention, to keep him there till she'll have it. “Why are you looking for a blue box?”
A flicker of hope appears on his face and she feels bad, she didn't want this, to disappoint him as the world keeps disappointing her. “I'm looking for a man to whom it belongs to, he took my son and his wife travelling, but they didn't come back. I just what to know where they are,” he sounds sad and proud at once, like travelling with the man with blue box meant accomplishment she couldn't even imagine, and it's right, she really could not.
“How long are they gone?” she asks, more confused than before. Had she lost someone too? Is that the answer?
“Eight months,” he answers her a little too quickly, like he wasn't supposed to tell. But he wants to talk, Donna could see that, he wants to tell somebody and she wants to listen. She wants the same too, wants gramps and mum to listen to her, to let her talk. But every single time she tries, they look scared, they look like whatever she wants to say it'll cause them pain, and Donna doesn't want that.
“You must miss them terribly,” she smiles reassuringly and sits down on the bench the man was sitting before. He sighs, looks at her strangely before sitting down and turning half of his body to her. Maybe he's still debating on what to tell her, Donna thinks, and she's surprised to find herself wanting more. She wants to know why this man is sitting on this particular bench, there might be a reason she has decided to come here today too. Yes, Donna Noble believes there's more to life than settling down and having kids, and maybe that was the reason her marriage had broke down.
Before he has a chance to reply, she stretches her hand out to him. “I'm Donna,” she introduces herself hoping it'll be easier for him to talk to someone who has a name.
He blinks at her, and then smiles, taking her hand in his. “Brian, Brian Williams. I'm pleased to meet you, Donna. There aren't many people I can talk about my son and daughter-in-law,” he says and she feels annoyance in his voice, the same one she feels when people brush aside whatever she's trying to say. She feels ignored; it seems that Brian Williams feels the same.
“Why?” the question passes her lips before she has a chance to think it through. Donna wonders how much she'll regret it later.
A shadow crosses Brian's face, and for a moment she thinks he won't answer. But then he straightens himself, puts his hands on his things and Donna sees a man that got pushed away, a man left behind by many, but a man with a mission and a resolution. She envies him that.
“They think I'm crazy, but I have seen things, Donna, my son did too, and I know that wherever he's, he's experiencing something spectacular. And I know I might never see him again but I can't be sad, because wherever he is, he's happy, and that's enough,” he sounds proud, he sounds happy and sad at the same time, and she realizes what exactly they have in common.
“I don't think you're crazy,” she says softly and he rewards her with a beaming smile. And Donna finally understands. She might never know what happened to her, people will be walking on splinter around her all her life and she would never know why. It isn't stopping her from living it; it doesn't stop her from falling in love again, from experiencing life. She's doing it all herself. But sometimes not-knowing is better, sometimes it saves you.
“Thank you,” Brian continues smiling and reaches for her hand. It feels familiar and Donna wonders if there're more things they have in common. If the life finally gave her the cue or the answer, but then, she had the choice all along.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Author:
karlamartinova
Characters: Donna Noble, Brian Williams
Genre: Gen, Angst
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1 683
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to BBC, I own nothing.
AN: Set after The Angels Take Manhattan
AN1: This was inspired by me missing my grandfather.
Summary: We all search for something, some knows for what, some do not.
The dawn intrudes the room through the pulled curtains. She was too tired, too angry, too not-herself to close them and now the light makes her head ache before she has a chance to open her eyes and fight it. But it's always like that, and Donna doesn't even remember how it was before.
She doesn't remember much more.
A soft knock forces her to dive out of her covers. It's gramps, she's sure, and she doesn't want to start this day by yelling at the only person who doesn't treat her like she's insane. Not that Shaun did, Shaun had loved her, did anything in his power to make her happy, but she never was. Sometimes Donna felt that she was physically unable to be happy, like there was a power within her destroying anything remotely similar to happiness.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Wilf said cheerfully but quietly at the same time. “Ready for some tea? Tea makes everything better; you know your grandma always said so, and she was mostly right, that old wench.”
There's sadness in his voice, a sadness she shouldn't understand and yet she somehow does. He's been talking about her grandmother more often these past few days, remembering the ordinary things she used to do and say, and both Donna and Sylvia were scared of what it could mean. It was almost 25 years since she had died, and Wilf sniffed in the air smelling her perfume. “Roses”, he would say with a smile and Donna's heart would clench.
She pushes herself up. “Good morning, gramps. It sure smells wonderful, what did you bring me?” Donna asks with a smile, hoping to hide the head-splintering headache. She knows he worries, she would worry too in his place, but she still tries to stop him. Donna wants her grandfather to be happy, to talk nonsense about stars and other planets again. But he had stopped and when she asks him why, he always changes the topic.
Donna isn't stupid, she knows they know. Something happened to her, something bad, and no one wants her to know what it was. There are times when she doesn't want to know, where she would like to forget that there's that one dark cloud following her everywhere. Sometimes it has a face, a face of a man with spiky hair and infectious smile, and sometimes it's shadow following her, and some days even a giant wasp buzzing behind her. Those times she's scared, those times she doesn't want to remember at all.
“Bacon and eggs, the right English breakfast,” he's chatting happily while setting the plates on the table near her bed. He talks to her like she's a child sometimes, like she had just woken up to go to school. Donna lets him, plays along hoping that her eyes won't tell a different story. She doesn't want him to know the truth, doesn't want them to know that she’s slowly dying from inside, that she doesn't feel, doesn't want. She's just a ship aimlessly flowing, falling into emptiness.
-
Donna covers her grandfather with woolen blanket, kisses him softly on the forehead and wanders out of the house. He was supposed to look after her, check her every move, but these days he's more asleep than awake and Donna almost feels guilty for using it to her advantage. But she needs to breathe, to be her on her own in some other place that the house that feels more like a prison. Outside she's almost happy, but then the neighbors start to avoid her on the street, whispering about Sylvia's daughter who went nuts after a strange accident, and Donna wants to turn around and run back to the house, but she doesn't. She needs this as much as needs the air, why, she doesn't know, but it's not surprising. Many things aren't.
It pulls her towards a kiddy playground. It looks familiar and when she closes her eyes she sees two children, a boy and a girl, they yell “mommy” at her and then they disappear. Donna releases an involuntary scream, opens her eyes and looks around frantically, hoping that no one will call an ambulance again. She isn't alone in the park. There’s a man sitting on a bench murmuring something to himself, he looks like he didn't notice her at all. It intrigues her, that for a change, there’re no weird looks and whispers.
“Another happy nutter,” she thinks and slowly approaches him. He's older than her, closer to her mum's age, his face looks kind and completely unfamiliar. She's almost afraid to ask if she knows him, if he knows her, afraid that the answer wouldn't be the one she expected.
His head suddenly shots up and he sends her a strange look. “Have you seen a blue box?” he asks and there's something in his eyes that makes Donna's heart beat strongly against her rib cage. His eyes are sad, but it's not the normal kind of sad, it's the same kind she sees in her own when she faces herself in the mirror. It's sadness and confusion and a feeling you cannot quite grasp, like you don't know how you should feel.
“A blue police box, I have read that someone spotted it nearby, haven't you?” there's more urgency in his voice and Donna feels like should've an answer for him, but she hasn't, so she simply shakes her head.
“Oh,” he says as an answer, for a second looks completely grief-stricken and then pushes himself up. “Thank you, madam, wish you a pleasant day.” He turns away then but Donna doesn't want him to go, she wants to know what put that sadness into him, maybe it's the same thing, a disease, an accident, something they could have in common and she might finally know.
“Oi, wait,” she yells after him and he stops. But she doesn't have a question yet, she didn't find out yet how to put feelings into words. What's the question she's supposed to ask? What answer she expects? She needs his attention, to keep him there till she'll have it. “Why are you looking for a blue box?”
A flicker of hope appears on his face and she feels bad, she didn't want this, to disappoint him as the world keeps disappointing her. “I'm looking for a man to whom it belongs to, he took my son and his wife travelling, but they didn't come back. I just what to know where they are,” he sounds sad and proud at once, like travelling with the man with blue box meant accomplishment she couldn't even imagine, and it's right, she really could not.
“How long are they gone?” she asks, more confused than before. Had she lost someone too? Is that the answer?
“Eight months,” he answers her a little too quickly, like he wasn't supposed to tell. But he wants to talk, Donna could see that, he wants to tell somebody and she wants to listen. She wants the same too, wants gramps and mum to listen to her, to let her talk. But every single time she tries, they look scared, they look like whatever she wants to say it'll cause them pain, and Donna doesn't want that.
“You must miss them terribly,” she smiles reassuringly and sits down on the bench the man was sitting before. He sighs, looks at her strangely before sitting down and turning half of his body to her. Maybe he's still debating on what to tell her, Donna thinks, and she's surprised to find herself wanting more. She wants to know why this man is sitting on this particular bench, there might be a reason she has decided to come here today too. Yes, Donna Noble believes there's more to life than settling down and having kids, and maybe that was the reason her marriage had broke down.
Before he has a chance to reply, she stretches her hand out to him. “I'm Donna,” she introduces herself hoping it'll be easier for him to talk to someone who has a name.
He blinks at her, and then smiles, taking her hand in his. “Brian, Brian Williams. I'm pleased to meet you, Donna. There aren't many people I can talk about my son and daughter-in-law,” he says and she feels annoyance in his voice, the same one she feels when people brush aside whatever she's trying to say. She feels ignored; it seems that Brian Williams feels the same.
“Why?” the question passes her lips before she has a chance to think it through. Donna wonders how much she'll regret it later.
A shadow crosses Brian's face, and for a moment she thinks he won't answer. But then he straightens himself, puts his hands on his things and Donna sees a man that got pushed away, a man left behind by many, but a man with a mission and a resolution. She envies him that.
“They think I'm crazy, but I have seen things, Donna, my son did too, and I know that wherever he's, he's experiencing something spectacular. And I know I might never see him again but I can't be sad, because wherever he is, he's happy, and that's enough,” he sounds proud, he sounds happy and sad at the same time, and she realizes what exactly they have in common.
“I don't think you're crazy,” she says softly and he rewards her with a beaming smile. And Donna finally understands. She might never know what happened to her, people will be walking on splinter around her all her life and she would never know why. It isn't stopping her from living it; it doesn't stop her from falling in love again, from experiencing life. She's doing it all herself. But sometimes not-knowing is better, sometimes it saves you.
“Thank you,” Brian continues smiling and reaches for her hand. It feels familiar and Donna wonders if there're more things they have in common. If the life finally gave her the cue or the answer, but then, she had the choice all along.